Name-dropping in general is highly frowned upon in our society. When you do it, people look at you like a philistine! I don’t know what that means but I don’t like the way it sounds. I’m a notorious name dropper and I don’t care who knows it. I made a list of all the celebrity encounters I ever had and came up with 72 names! These are a few of them.

For over 10 years I worked for a production company/post-production facility called City Lights Media Group. I was a producer and I did sales for the post facility and brought in literally millions of dollars. We (City Lights for those of you not paying attention) had a very successful television division. I was a producer for City Lights Media Group but I had no affiliation with the tv department except that I was always trying to bring them projects because I wanted desperately to have an affiliation with them! They did a show called Movies 101 with former NYU professor Richard Brown. I found out that Martin Scorsese was going to be the guest one day, so I bribed a production assistant with twenty dollars for telling me which door Scorsese would be coming out of.

When Marty came out (I must have called him Marty ten times) he signed a couple of dvds for me: “Goodfellas” and “Mean “Streets” – one day when I was drunk I gave my friend Rob the autographed Mean Streets dvd. The next day he gave it back to me because he knew I wasn’t in my right mind at the time! I hate being a Native American (for those not politically correct-Indian) giver so I’m going to leave it for him in my will. Sorry, I digress!
So finally I asked Scorsese about something that always irked me about Goodfellas. I asked him: “Marty, (again with the Marty, it’s much worse than it sounds) why did you break the fourth wall in Goodfellas; in the courtroom scene? Let me explain briefly, in the second to last scene or so, Henry Hill is in court. He looks right into the camera and delivers his dialogue, “we had everything…bla bla bla”. It’s very jarring when he looked into audience like that. It takes you out of the movie. It’s distracting. It works in comedies like Ferris Beuller’s Day Off, it works for Groucho Marx, even Bugs Bunny but not Henry Hill! So I had the nerve to critique Martin Scorsese on my favorite movie of his because of what I considered a flaw. His assistants where trying to whisk him away into a waiting car but Marty paused and thought for a moment, and pointing up with his index finger he said: “To confront the audience!” I thanked him, dropped one more Marty and they made their getaway. I think they were on their way to court to get an order of protection against me!

One day I came out of the elevator at City Lights where I worked, and I was making my way out the door (reading a Variety) and I saw 2 big, burly, black men standing near the elevator. There was another man down the hall wearing a parka with a snorkel hood on, covering his identity. Intrigued as I was, I leaned in to see who it was. I got right in his face. It was Michael Jackson, the king of pop and I just said to myself, possibly out loud “oh, its Michael Jackson.” Honestly, I was so stunned by his appearance that it shook me. I didn’t talk to him; I just kept on going. A few years later when he died I felt so sad and remorseful. I was sad obviously because he died. I grew up with him and the Jackson 5.
I remember the Jackson 5 cartoon I used to watch and that his snake’s name was Rosie and his mice were Ray and Charles. I just hope he kept Rosie away from Ray and Charles because Rosie would eat them for dinner! I was so remorseful that I didn’t give Michael a big hug. I would have said: “hey Mickey, you wanna go to Taco Bell and then we can go to an arcade to play video games!” We both like video games. But I judged him harshly over the allegations made against him which unfortunately, I believe are true. Even so I should have given him a big hug, I should have told him I love him. Coulda, shoulda, woulda!

When I was 26 or so I got invited to an anniversary function for “Beggars Banquet” the official fan club for the Rolling Stones one of my all time favorite bands. I proceeded to get extremely drunk as I do whenever I go to parties because I have social anxiety. So who was there? You don’t know? Ok I’m going to tell you. Keith Richards or as Mick Jagger calls him: “Keef”. Richards was sitting behind a large table next to an older black gentleman, a musician I’m sure. Everyone left him alone and meanwhile I was getting drunker (is that a word?) and drunker.

So, all of a sudden people began to line up, flocking to Keith’s table so they could meet him.
Of course I went on line too! When it came to be my turn I just freaked out on him: “you’re the f-ing best man!! Bla bla bla. He raised and waved his arms mocking my radical style. But I didn’t care; I just met Keith Richards! A few years later I went to my friend Wayne’s wedding and Billy, the guy that founded Beggars Banquet was there. He just looked at me and in front of everyone said “I’d love to punch you in your face!!!” Obviously I was taken aback but in reality he is the third person in my life to make such an offer. Truth be told one of the three actually said “I’d like to punch you right in the nose!” I know that Billy still held a grudge over my behavior with Keith Richards at his event. Then he went on stage on the boat my friend was getting married on and did an imitation of Mick Jagger. I was embarrassed for him and I never saw him again since.

I worked with the actor Danny Aiello a couple of times. Once, I worked with him and the actor John Tuturro (I actually shot second camera but I don’t believe any of the footage was used). Since I mentioned Tuturro let me tell you a quick story about him. I used to go to Richard Brown’s course Movies 101 where we would watch a movie and they would bring in actors and directors to interview and open it up to questions.
Tuturro was the guest that day and he was promoting one of his movies. So I bumped into him in the hallway and I told him that I worked on the HeartShare PSAs with him and Danny Aiello. And he got very excited and said “oh yeah!!” as if he remembered me, and he shook my hand. I knew he had NO IDEA who I was and he gave one of the worst performances of his life. Now I laugh about it but at the time it was very creepy. He’s still a great actor though except for that one performance!
So back to Danny Aiello: we were in the studio ready to shoot an intro for our documentary “Unforgotten: Twenty-Five Years After Willowbrook.” I was associate producer for that one. Willowbrook was a mental health facility on Staten Island in NY. Robert Kennedy described it as a snake pit. Geraldo Rivera got his big breaking case when he got the key to Willowbrook to film the abhorrent conditions there.
It’s what put him on the map as they say. Remind me and I’ll tell you more about Geraldo. When Danny Aiello walked in, there was a movie poster of Al Pacino’s “Scent of a Woman” on the wall. He pointed to the poster and arrogantly said: “he’s been doing me for years!” Oh boy, what an ego on this guy! He almost walked out on us because he didn’t like the script. The CEO of City Lights, Danny Fisher talked him back in and we got our footage. I got to speak to Danny Aiello about some of the films he was in especially one of my favorites “Once Upon a Time in America” a movie by Sergio Leone, famous for his spaghetti westerns. I also got a really nice photo of him and me and another time a big group of us went out to eat with him at an Italian restaurant. It was fun!

Let me get back to Geraldo Rivera who I mentioned. The first time I met Geraldo Rivera, this is before working with him, he was in front of the nightclub “Elaines” which was right down the block from where I lived on the upper east side of Manhattan. I said “hi Geraldo” and he totally ignored me. I know he heard me, I was right in front of him. So obviously I felt slighted to say the least. The same thing happened by the way when I ran into Paul Shaffer of Letterman fame who I always really liked. It reminds me of a scene in Scorsese’s movie “The King of Comedy”. Jerry Langford played by Jerry Lewis is walking down the street in NY and construction workers cheered and others waved to him to say hello. Then he was approaching a woman on a public phone, remember them? The woman told him how much she loves him, that he is the best etc. Then she tries to hand him the phone and says “please say hello to my husband, it will be such a thrill for him”. Jerry said he couldn’t because he was in a rush and she turned to him and said: “you should die of cancer!!!” That’s kind of how I felt being dissed by Paul Shaffer and Geraldo although I don’t wish cancer on anyone, but that shift from love to hate is very funny! So years later we interviewed Geraldo for the documentary about Willowbrook I mentioned.
There’s a very funny scene where he recounts the story and cries like 2 crocodile tears. Then instantly he changed gears and went into his “shpiel”. Spell check doesn’t recognize shpiel for some reason, I guess because its Yiddish and they’re anti-Semites!! His fakery was very funny and told a lot about him. Months later he came to the premiere of the documentary and we saw him intently looking at the movie poster. He was searching for his name which couldn’t be found because we did not include him, even though it was he that broke the case wide open originally. Yeah, karma is a bitch!

I have 66 more encounters to tell but we don’t have time or the room to fit them all. All these experiences taught me that celebrities are just like us! No, not really!!

It seems enough loyalists have decided that Qadaffi’s life is not worth dying for and so the General’s merry men have disbanded leaving Muammar on the run. I have some insight based on my own life experiences and keen thought processes to help those that are seeking him and I hope my invaluable advice on where he might be will be heeded immediately. First of all he is probably wearing the same striped shirt that “Waldo” of the famous “Where’s Waldo” series of books is wearing. There’s your first clue.

When I owned a home, and during those times I felt that the whole world was against me (especially my wife) I would retreat to my basement where I would find refuge and solace. There is a good possibility that Muammer has taken the stairs downward and is hanging out in his own palace basement. He is probably playing ping pong with the few friends and family members he has left and I am sure they let him win every game. Listen for the dictators loud screams of “I won again!!!” and you will find him.

Check Condeleeza Rice’s house in Washington DC. In case you haven’t heard, photos of her were found in his palace and he is her number one fan (after that other kooky tyrant Dick Cheney). I can picture them now, snuggling on her sofa. “Oh Muammie, I didn’t even know you played the guitar.” While he plays “Baby I’m a Want You” by the band Bread, she toasts “smores” in the fireplace and feeds him. “I love these things!” he tells her. “I bet we can package this stuff and make millions. They are a little messy though. Use two marshmallows for the next one will you my little love sparrow?”

A while back I posted an email sent by Qadaffi to Charlie Sheen asking if Chuckie can put him up for a while in his Hollywood mansion. Guys with tigers blood and crazy ways tend to stick together so that is one of the first places I would check. He’s probably turning him on to coke and introducing him to his own concubines while they share war stories of how they outwitted the general public into thinking they were “normal”. Qadaffi was “normalized” by George W. Bush when Muammie promised to no longer pursue “nuc-ulear” weapons. Charlie was recently “normalized” by American television who are bringing the warlock back for a show based on the movie “Anger Management.” I am sure Qadaffi will have a role in the show and will be available for capture as he sits poolside signing autographs to a brand new fan base.

I know that when I feel alone and needing to vent, I go to my local bar to have a few drinks and confer with my favorite bar tender. There is a good chance Qadaffi is at the Shepherd’s Tavern in downtown Tripoli drinking his sorrows away. “No one understands me Joe. I’m not a bad guy. I may have made some bad choices but what I do is not who I am.” “Well, beheading your political enemies did not make you very popular but it’s good that you can learn from your mistakes and move on. Would you like another Bud, Bud?” “Sure. And that Condee Rice. She’s another one. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted her. I still can’t find my wallet or cell phone”.

I hope these tips have been helpful and I am sure that if they are taken seriously Qadaffi will be found very quickly. I hope I am not forgotten as the one who led to his capture and maybe the reward money that was offered for Bin Laden will roll over as a reward for Qadaffi’s capture. I am broke and can really use the million bucks. Thanks.

A Gay Rights activist is pushing for Sesame Street to “out” Bert and Ernie as a homosexual couple. There are already 5000 signatures on the petition of his website of people who favor having them marry. Mayor Bloomberg can reside over their marriage. “I now pronounce you: Mu ppets (muh-pets).” Maybe Elton John can play “here come the…grooms?” on piano.
How would I explain this to my five year old and how do I explain the, “families with two mommies and daddies” as presented on a Sesame Street episode by none other than Elmo? “Ask your mother?” “Just Google it?”

I have deep doubts that Bert and Ernie are gay. They are what Sesame Street reps describe as best friends. They are also room-mates and perhaps like Felix and Oscar of the “Odd Couple” they are divorced muppets who like me, are trying to put the pieces of their lives back together. No, I don’t think that’s the case either. But to even imply that they are gay is insulting. Big Bird maybe but not Bert and Ernie.

With the political correctness police patrolling our lives, anyone who protests this push to label our dear muppet friends as gay will be deemed as “haters.” So speaking out against this in an attempt to protect the innocence of our children will result in a Scarlett “H” for homophobe. When did furthering an agenda (dare I say it) become more important than our own choice in dealing with these issues with our kids? Can we wait until we feel they are ready or at least out of diapers? “How dare you!! You homophobe!” “You hater”. On the contrary; I am a hater hater. I hate haters. I just don’t like to be bullied by a furry red muppet and by those controlling poor Elmo and those bullying their way into my living room and into my child’s psyche. If my kids can’t watch Sesame Street anymore what’s left for them to watch?

Children’s Television should be just that, programming for children. I will be writing to my congressman Barney Frank about this. You can count on that!

As I write this, my future ex-wife is with her current boyfriend, Jack; a divorced man who has a beard but no moustache. That she finds this attractive is beyond me. Maybe she likes the “beatnik finds Islam” look. Jack’s little boy is a friend of my daughter and I think she had a little coaching from her mother as to how wonderful the little boy is. One big happy family without me.

When I hit hard times financially my future ex realized how unhappy she had been all these years. An attempted reconciliation failed when loverboy broke up with his ex girlfriend rendering him free for my ex-wife. He makes a nice living and works in the medical field. Good for her. I hope late at night when she is asleep he conducts medical experiments on her. They are probably having a nice barbeque right now and if my future ex-brother-in-law is doing the honors he is probably roasting a large pig in a spit to celebrate the new boyfriend, to piss off his Jewish neighbors and in honor of getting rid of me.
When I go to that place where I start longing that everything was as it were before, I am able to control this momentary insanity by focusing hard on my future ex-mother-in-law. She is an instigator extraordinaire; an expert in the art of mixing and I don’t mean she is a bartender. “Larry David is the best Jew ever” I remember her telling me in a moment of attempted endearment. I guess I was her second favorite Jew but by now I probably fall on the list somewhere under David Berkowitz and other Jewish serial killers.
Look intently at her picture and notice what looks back at you: nothing. Hers was a litany of random complaints; self-pity and the barking of commands not even a pit bull would be able to keep up with. She is the one I leave behind with Jewish jubilation.

These are the things she has been telling my 5-year-old daughter who means the world to me:

“Your dad needs to get a job so he can buy you toys and clothes.” (I am self-employed).

“New Jersey is boring.” (My daughter’s grandparent’s house is in NJ).

“They are not your REAL cousins.” (Referring to any of my child’s cousins on my side of the family).

Did I mention this is what she tells my five year old? So when my daughter asked me why women don’t have moustaches I corrected her that her “Nanny” indeed has one and she trims it once a month.

She has always been a trouble-maker in the television mother-in-law sense of the word but much worse. I take responsibility for my role in the failure of our marriage. My wife’s role was much greater if you asked me but my mother in law was also a BIG help. I’m glad I found her picture to stare at on this lonely Saturday night where my demons have taken the form of roaches and ants in an attempt to drive me insane in my small apartment. The next woman I marry will need to be raised poor so she does not have the kind of materialistic values my wife and her family have, but more than anything I hope her family is in a country far far away. Like Mars. Meanwhile I will get an exterminator and not think so much about my ex-life.

Before I canceled my cable television service I used to get over 200 channels of television – and cable is not cheap. It was like paying a second mortgage! I should own HBO by now. The reason I canceled was because even with 200+ channels, there was never anything on television. All I would do all night long is channel surf like an idiot. One channel, after another, after another. I got so good that I can punch a channel in on the remote without even looking. The chicks really dig that!! But I usually just scroll up and down with those arrows – channel, to channel to channel – hoping that please G-d, let it stop. Let there be something on!!

Finally you just compromise. After a while you just have to. I just close my eyes and say, ok wherever it lands that’s what I am going to watch. So I land on a channel that has a show called “Pet Psychic” on. She communicates with people’s pets and informs the owners as to what’s on their mind. The show originated in LA – big surprise. So this is what I see. There’s a nice couple with their Lab, Tonto and this English lady, the pet Psychic. She puts her ear up against the dog’s mouth:

“Yes Tonto? What do you want me to tell them”

Tonto lets out a grrrrrl—–rough, rough!!! And whines a
little—-“errrrrrr”. Then he scrapes his paw against the floor and wails.

She translates for them:

“Tonto says you don’t pay enough attention to him. He is lonely and resents
the fact that you had him neutered”.

“Yeah well he should have thought about that while he was humping my leg,
and my wife had her tubes tied. You don’t see her complaining.

“He doesn’t like the carpeting in the living room”.

“I think he has made that abundantly clear!!! Didn’t need a psychic for
that one!! We knew he either didn’t like it or claimed it as his own.

“He’s a very intelligent animal. Very intelligent”. The dog pulls on her leg
like he wants to tell her something else:

The Psychic continues: “ He doesn’t like the blue automatic toilet bowl
cleaner. It gives him an upset stomach!”

“Yeah well if he is so intelligent what is he doing drinking out of the
toilet?”

She continues: “He wants you to sell your Cadillac and buy a rickshaw.”

With that both the lady and the dog were kicked out of the house.

The lady brought the dog to the ASPCA and they put her to sleep. Not the dog, the lady.

by Michael Cohen aka Mucho Groucho
Today is my birthday; I turned 49 at around 2 o’clock this morning. I usually feel depressed on my birthday but for some reason depression has not set in yet. When I was born my parent’s couldn’t think of a name for me until the second day of my life so for one day I actually did not have a name. They should have just named me Mucho Groucho to make things easier for me now; that or Walter. I always liked the name Walter. It has a ring of intelligence. Michael just sounds like my parents gave up and went with the most popular name of that year because they just couldn’t think of anything else. But I wouldn’t have minded a name that rhymed with my last name like Owen. Owen Cohen. I am going to name my boy Owen if I ever have a boy assuming I ever get remarried, and my wife is still of child bearing years but at 49 I guess I need to be realistic and give up the hope of marrying a rich, orphaned (no in-laws), beautiful, calm, young and kind contortionist woman.

When I was a child I remember crying every year on my birthday. How did I know getting older is such a downer? They did call me a gifted child, I guess that was my gift like the kid in “The Sixth Sense” who saw dead people. I must have seen my future self and cried every year. Maybe I was crying for the donkey we used to “pin the tail” on every year at my birthday parties. This year I am going to try to pin a tail on a real donkey just to see what happens.

I guess I must really be getting old because like all old people, I believe that things were much better when I was young. Music was better, movies were better and life in general was light and carefree and without the worries we have now of having to learn Chinese for instance, in order to really make it in the world. Now I am almost 50, practically broke, overweight and worried about my future. It’s like being 20 again! But who would argue that everything WAS better? Who would argue that The Beatles are better than Justin Bieber and Butch Cassidy is better than Harry Potter? Old people.

There are always those clichés you need a calculator for, like how many years of your life you spent sleeping. Whatever that number is all I know is that I am still very tired.; exhausted really. I often wonder and even ask G-d how many years I have left? I would like to plan ahead and rack up a credit card bill that will make the bank CEOs really angry when I pass. “That bastard Cohen. First it was bankruptcy and now this!”

Next year I turn fifty. Until that happens I will try not to think about being alive a half a century. I won’t think about the fact that my life is more than halfway over and I am divorced, overweight and practically broke. Today I will just enjoy myself but first I will call my doctor to make sure its ok to take a few extra clonopin with my birthday cake!

Yesterday I went into a Duane Reade a local drug chain. I go shopping for food items there but only after filling my prescription of Klonopin and popping a couple for good measure. I hate shopping and have anxiety being around crowds, lines and too many choices for products. The old Soviet Union had it better with only one choice of bread, milk and other necessities. Why do we need 20 varieties of bread? It takes me 20 minutes to decide which to get and then when I get home I always feel buyer’s remorse. I knew I should have bought the whole grain. Damn this white bread! Wonder Bread??!! What the hell is so wonderful about it?

I always look for sale items as I am always broke and I would steal these items but they have those annoying theft detectors at the door. I picked a half gallon of milk. Sale price: $2.59. Eggs: sale price: $1.79 (jumbo are more expensive). Then to my surprise when I got to the cashier’s station, everything rang up 3 times more than the sale price. Eggs $7.00??? How much was the chicken that laid them $5,000? When I loudly complained, the cashier “axed” me if I had a membership card. “A membership card, what is this some kind of cult or something? Are you sacrificing a stock boy in the back to the god Dagon?” She continued staring at me with that glazed, cashier look. She is probably a card carrying cult member her self. Then she “axed” me if I would like to apply for the card. With 12 people on line behind me I started filling out the form. Name, address, phone number, social security number, last time you had sex, mother’s maiden name, father’s maiden name etc. By this time there was a near riot with people behind me who obviously did not pop a couple of Klonopins like I did. How do I know my father’s maiden name? He never told me.

“Is this necessary????!!!” I asked the cashier with the glazed look in her eyes. I handed her a $100 bill. She yelled toward the back of the store where the stock boy was being sacrificed: “I need approval”. I said “you’re a lovely woman and you have a thick head of hair like the tail of a thoroughbred race horse”. To which she responded: “Security!!!”

A security guard came out of the back room. He looked like O.J. Simpson but I am pretty sure it wasn’t him. “What seems to be the problem?” I said, “look, what’s with the membership cards? You list one price on the shelf and then the prices that ring up require a second mortgage. “That’s our policy sir”. The manager didn’t explain it either and I am pretty sure he was high on peyote. When I began to yell to try to recruit the others on line for a chain store mutiny the security guard that resembled O.J. stuffed my change for a hundred in my mouth and carried me out of the store. “I’ll never come back here again!!” I said with my mouth full. (I also say that in banks when I am unhappy which evokes a cacophony of unceasing laughter from the tellers– I only have about $100 in the bank at any given time).

The security guard and manager followed me outside and tattooed a symbol on my forehead that looked like the Proctor and Gamble logo and since then I have been feeling like I am in some unceasing fog like I am under some spell. They turned me into a drug store zombie but at least I never have to show my card again to get the really good deals and now the cashier and I are dating!

In Egypt lived a Pharoah
Whose thoughts were very narrow
But his frame was the largest in the land.
The king’s name was Potomus. Pharaoh Potomus the Third,
And he ruled Egypt with a weighty, iron hand.

His servants call him fatty. Pharaoh Fatty The Third,
But never to his face, they haven’t got the nerve.

One day his cook was fishing
For Pharaoh’s dinner meal,
The fishermen got sea sick
On some day old, mauraee eel.

So the cook grabbed the fishing pole,
And he looked outside the boat,
Larger than the eye could see,
He saw this creature float,

A behemoth? A swimming elephant?
What can that thing be?
When the cook swam somewhat closer,
He was too close to see.

And as he sat on him like a landed bird – he said:
“Why, he has the hip o’ potomus. King Potomus the Third”.

So from that day on as Hippopotamus he is known,
Now he reigns throughout the Egypt (The fat Pharaoh was over thrown).

I have a client that awakened me to the fact the the instructions she was sending me regarding her color scheme were “not very complicated”. This was email response:

Dear Ms. Cootchie Cootchie,

My name is Mr. Hector Abracadabra Snarrky Snark with the Office of Clairvoyancy here at Pop Media Pro. It was brought to my attention that it was twice mentioned how “not that complicated” your instructions were regarding the overhaul of the color scheme of your home page. Once by you and once by your “artist” friend. Unfortunately our office Happy Medium has been out for two weeks so we are in somewhat of a bind. He asked his Ouija Board a stupid question and it rose of from the table and struck him on the head causing a mild concussion. It also caused his head to sink into his neck to such a degree that his doctors are still unable to pull it out.

Thanks for the color wheel comments and the newly presented “hex”numbers whatever they are. In the future we ask that you place your forehead against your computer monitor – if it is an older monitor not a flat screen, please place your bare foot up against it and chant: hare rama lama lama ding dong 7 times emphasizing the words rama lama the first 4 times and the words ding dong the last 3 times. I am sure you will find these instructions “not too complicated” but I’m afraid if you do this incorrectly you will need to start all over again. By doing this we will be able to scan your mind so that we don’t have to google and find 90 varieties of the colors you are talking about like “purple” and “indigo” as you mention here:

can I see a dilluted cornflower blue behind the stories and then she may suggest changing the color behind the header to an indigo with purple/blue tones – stronger than the background – still keep the flowers and where the deepest turquoise is, the deepest purple/indigo should go there. Your guys should understand this. She thinks it’s stronger and she says it’s me.. And I agree – it’s also less feminine and my title is already enough of that. This is a little pastel for me.

Upon attempting to “dillute” the cornflower blue, the concoction looked and smelled so yummy that unfortunately we ate it with some crackers and cheddar cheese. However we will attempt to contact the spirit world again with the “hex” numbers you gave us but be advised that in our dimension most living souls use Pantone colors as a reference as listed and utilized in Photo Shop as opposed to ” indigo with purple blue tones” etc.

We are terribly sorry for the inconvenience and we are afraid we will not be able to proceed until we speak by phone and you can also channel in your “artist” friend in on the conversation. Perhaps we can schedule a time on Monday morning after your meeting with Shirley MacLaine. Thank you for your time and imaginary effort. As this will be the last website we ever do, we want to make sure you are completely satisfied that the colors you wish to present to your Los Angeles peers and fellow Hollywood friends scream: “CAROLl!!”

I caution you to please again remember to emphasize the words rama lama the first 4 times and the words ding dong the last 3 times when you have your bare foot or forehead on the screen as this is vital to our trademarked mind scanning process and if this is done incorrectly you may believe you are back in grade school again with a crush on your 3rd grade teacher Mr. Needleman as this can cause great stress and unnecessary trauma to your psyche.

Ms. Cootchie Cootchie, as always, we thank you for your business and we look forward to many, many more years of trying to figure out what you are trying to convey to us using the new language you learned during your astral projection classes and numerous visits to Mars.

Last Sunday I went hunting for the first time in my 48 years on Earth. My friend Irving who lives in NJ invited me to help curb the deer population as revenge for one stray that made his way into his home. The deer pranced through his kitchen, sat at his table and ate his last box of Cheerios. So in support of my friend, I bought a silly hunting outfit, camaflouge – which by the way I could never understand. A twig snaps in Upstate NY and the deer in New Jersey are like “What???!! Where??!! What was that? Lets get out of here” but me and Irving are going to fool them with our camaflouge.

The deer population is out of control in NJ and they’ll starve which is very inhumane so once a year they let any shmuck with a gun shoot at them. That’s more humane.
I personally am not out for blood, or at least not to kill and I know I won’t be able to get the movie “Bambi” out of my mind – so I figure I’ll do my part to help diminish the deer population – I’ll just go for their sexual organs. At least they’ll still be alive.

So I got the pistol I bought at a flea market in the Bronx – grabbed my outfit and I was set. Irving is a traditionalist he likes to use a bow and arrow, what can I tell you. A Jewish guy with a bow and arrow doesn’t make much sense to me but what do I know. Maybe he’s one of the lost tribes – Apache – Levi – I don’t know.

As soon I got into the woods I had to go to the bathroom. Must have been the noise from that babbling brook.

I guess I must have rustled the shrubbery a little – because next thing you know Irving was pointing his bow and arrow at me and before I can say “no!!!!!” he hit me with an arrow and it goes right through my head.

I said “what are you crazy?!!!, what are you doing hitting me with an arrow?!!!” He says “I thought you were a moose!!”

I thought: “ok, that’s valid”. So he rushes me to the hospital. I come in and all the doctors and nurses are in shock which really gives you a sense of comfort.

They quickly x-ray me and tell me that I have an arrow stuck in my head. Thank G-d my brain is so small the arrow completely missed my brain -went right above it and I had no permanent damage. But they need to operate immediately. However, first they tell me, I have to call my insurance company – to get approval for the surgery. So I called my insurance company and I get that recording, you know – if you’re a doctor push 1, if you’re a pharmacist push 2, if you have been hit in the head with an arrow push 3. So I’m on hold for a half hour. I’m sitting in the waiting room and people are using the arrow sticking out of my head as a coat rack. I say, “Hey! do you mind?!!” Finally someone gets on the phone. “ She says: “Hi my name is Janine, how may I assist you today?”

“Hi” I said frenetically, “it’s an emergency, we were hunting, Irving thought I was a moose and to make a long story short I have an arrow sticking out of my head I need immediate surgery. So she puts me on hold for an authorization number. Again, I’m on hold now for 10 minutes.

I’m listening to “Raindrops Are Falling On My Head” finally she gets back on the phone and says “sir”. I say “yes, yes, please hurry! I need an authorization number for my surgery” hen she tells me: “Sir, I’m sorry – your surgery was not approved.”

I said: “my surgery is not approved? what are you talking about?”

So she says: “I’m sorry Mr Cohen, we don’t feel it is a medical necessity we can not approve the surgery”.

“Did you hear me correctly?!! –I have an arrow through my head – medical necessity?!!!”

She said, “I’m sorrry sir since no damage has really been done except for the arrow through your head which is more of a cosmetic problem, you’re not covered for that, and we will not be able to approve your surgery. We suggest going to a hardware store, buying a saw and cutting the arrow on both sides to approve your appearance.

“So you mean – you’re not going to approve the surgery?”

“No sir, i’m afraid not”.

“So that’s it?!!! go to a hardware store and buy a hacksaw? That’s what you’re telling me? Can I at least send in the receipt and get reimbursed for the hacksaw?

“No sir, I’m afraid not”. I was in shock. i was speechless.

Then you know what she had the nerve to say to me?…….

“Is there anything else i can help you with today?!!”.

“Is there anything else you can help me with today?!!!!! Are you kidding!! Did I not happen to mention that I have an arrow stuck in my head!! How about starting with that?!!!’ So she hangs up on me. We went to a hardware store and Irving saws both ends of the arrow off and dinner is on him and that was that but I’ll never go hunting again. I won’t even go fishing!!! I’m afraid of where the hook might end up!

I use Vonage for my landline and I have been happy with them but not with the new free service they offered recently: Visual Voicemail. The transcriptions have been somewhat lacking in accuracy to put it mildly. Here is the “To Be or Not to Be” soliloquy that I read into the phone and below is the text of that most famous lament. Below that is the Vonage Visual voicemail version.

Shakespeare:

To be, or not to be–that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And by opposing end them. To die, to sleep–
No more–and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to. ‘Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep–
To sleep–perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause.

Vonage:

“To be you not to be that is the question. What is nobler in the mind to suffer the things and arrows of of lady just want to know to take they can see your troubles and by opposing and then to die to sleep no more. I’m asleep to say we had an dog in the thousand natural shocks that the flush his attitude is a consumption the valley to be wished to die to sleep to sleep or trying to dream hey. Here’s the rub, foot actually but that’s what you’ve like when we up […] shuffled off this small court. So must be disclosed. There a respect of mix. Call me up so long life, Vogel with better whips and swans of time the price is wrong with Apartments come to see the kinds of this but I love the laws related incidence of office response the patient noted and, and where they takes what he himself. My is quite just make whether they are […]” … more. Please listen to your voicemail for the remainder of this message.

A few years back Congress passed a “do not call” list bill, outlawing the constant harassing sales calls that interrupted our lives at the absolute most inconvenient times possible, which for me is the period of 6 or 7 hours of napping I do during the day, every day before I go to sleep for the night.

I am proposing another list I would like to see implemented called: the “don’t ask me, don’t tell me” list which will prevent customer service reps and other agents of torture from engaging in the corporate language they use when dealing with us on a daily basis. If they interrogated the prisoners at Guantanamo Bay, using that same antiseptic, robotic, blood curdling language, we would have won the war against terror years ago.

Cable Television Agent to Prisoner
Guantanamo Bay, Cuba:

“We can offer you our Triple Pay package for $99.00 a month and I will read you the terms that should only take about 20 minutes or so, or perhaps you would like to tell me when the next terror attack is scheduled to take place or where Osama Bin Laden is hiding? Ok. As you wish. This is a two year contract commencing…..”

This “do not ask or tell me” list is not limited to the telephone. For instance it also applies to the 17 year old gum chewing, friend texting grocery cashier who “axes” me if I would like a bag for the 30 items I just bought.

“No, I think I will juggle them while riding my unicycle home. Can you just toss me that can of tuna when I tell you…? Ok…..NOW!!”

This is my list. Feel free to add to it according to your own pet peeves, neurosis, quirks and idiosyncrasies.

After waiting on hold, and then speaking to 3 different people who ask for the same exact information that I entered on my “telephone keypad” a half hour ago, I am told by my Insurance Company agent that I am not covered for that unaffordable, life saving drug I need. I have the option of either paying out of pocket or dying. This is followed with:

1 – “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No, I think the prospect of an early death is quite enough for now but can I get your extension just in case because you have been so helpful. What’s your name again? Barbara? Barbara, are you by any chance wearing a long black robe and carrying a reaper’s sickle in your right hand?”

Then they have the nerve to ask:

2 – “Would like to take part in a survey regarding your satisfaction?”

“Yes, I would like to take the survey but I want it to be given by the CEO of your company and there may be some really foul language involved. Can you transfer me to the f-er now?”

3 – “Would you mind holding?”

“Yes, I mind holding. I would like you to bring the phone with you every where you go while trying to get an answer for me and just keep me on the line. I want to hear EVERYTHING that is said and you should know that your call may be recorded for “quality assurance” or training purposes or as Exhibit A when I take you to court.

Last month I didn’t realize there was an actual time of day deadline indicated on my credit card bill on the day the payment was due by. It was 5pm. To me, the day ends at 11:59:59 so at 11:00 PM I felt that I had plenty of time and I made my payment online. Then when I got my bill, I saw that I received a $50 late fee. I was 7 hours late according to their clock; I had a whole 59 minutes and 59 seconds according to mine. When I called this is what the agent told me:

4- “I waived the late fee as a one time courtesy………”

I answered in Brooklynese:

“Oh yeah? How about if I wave my FIST by your FACE
as a one time courtesy warning?!!”

Asked by every hairstylist that ever gave me a $20 hair cut”

5 – “Would you like me to trim the hair off your ears?”

“No, no!! Please don’t!! I am letting it grow out the way my Uncle Stanley’s ear hair did when he was 80 years old. I am also letting the fungus between my toes cultivate because I want to see if any tiny mushrooms might pop out. It’s an experiment.”

And back to the corporate world, the famously ridiculous:

6 – “Would you like to subscribe to our newsletter?”

“No thank you. I learned everything I needed to learn about your company when you denied me coverage for the unaffordable drug that could have saved my life. I won’t be receiving emails in Heaven but I will be petitioning God to strike your CEO with an attack of a pre-existing condition he won’t forget!!”

According to CNN an 85 year old nun was trapped in a Baltimore elevator for 4 nights and 3 days. She survived by eating some celery sticks and by drinking what little water she happened to have on her person.

Sister Margaret Geary was in good spirits as she was quoted as saying: “It could have been worse. I could have been stuck on a moving escalator for 4 days!”

Coincidentally a Catholic Priest who read the story tried taking the same elevator with a 15 year old boy he was mentoring but the elevator mechanics arrived on the scene too soon leaving the Priest despondent and the boy shaken. Representatives at the Vatican refuse to comment.

According to CNN, Lindsay Lohan appeared on the Tonight Show with Jay Leno admitting that she made “some mistakes” and vowed that she would return to the show one day with an Oscar!

She went on to say that if she didn’t win one, she would just steal one from someone who did. Recent Oscar winner Natalie Portman is said to be terrified and has hers under lock and key in the safe deposit box of an undisclosed Hollywood bank. Wynona Ryder is also said to have expressed interest in Portman’s statue.

According to several news outlets, a rare, seldom seen “Asian Unicorn” was spotted recently in the Annamite Mountain region bordering Vietnam and Laos.

Apparently the pre-fix “Uni” has a different meaning in the Asian world. We are pretty sure the bicycles in that region have 3 wheels, quadrangles found there have 5 sides, and recently quintuplets were born to a family in the village and all six new borns survived and are said to be doing well.

According to the Associated Press ground breaking has begun on a new Disney theme park slated to open in China in 2016.

Our sources tell us to expect some dramatic changes to Disney staples however. To the question: “Who’s the leader of the club that’s made for you and me?”
The lyric answer will now be sung as: “Chairman of the Communist P-a-r-t-y”.

Snow White will only be allotted one dwarf instead of seven to discourage polygamy among China’s height challenged population.

The genie of Aladdin’s lamp will be allowed to grant only one wish and that will go to the Communist Party Chairperson Hu Jintao, Hu is expected to ask to meet Lindsey Lohan.

None of the main Disney characters: Mickey, Minnie, Pluto or Goofy will be allowed to leave the country until the debt owed by America to China, over a Trillion Dollars is repaid and in the event that the amount is not repaid by 2016, Donald will then be known as “Donald Roasted Duck” will be served to his excellency in a banquet honoring his birthday”.

There is chaos on the world stage like never before. Endless wars, tyrants stockpiling nuclear weapons like little boys collecting stamps. There are unprecedented natural disasters happening: birds falling from the air by the millions, fish forgetting how to swim and drowning in the open sea. We have role models like “Snooki” and Kim Kardashian for our kids to emulate, not to mention the dismal run of the NY Knicks basketball team. Spike Lee doesn’t even show up for the games anymore. This is the end my friend.

For people like me, the disenfranchised, disappointed, disenchanted, disillusioned and just plain “dissed” I have come to expect, accept and even anticipate the apocalypse. Let’s get it over with already. Why delay? Maybe we can even try to speed things up. Personally I am going to vote for Donald Trump if he runs for president to help make this happen quicker, and I urge you all to do the same. I am hoping his running mate will be Sarah Palin. That will really put an end to things quickly. Let them just be honest about their platform: “yes, we are trying to bring about the end of the world to just get it over with already.”

There is a lot of talk on who the anti-Christ is or will be. Some people think it’s Obama (he’s way too wimpy and confused), George Soros, Glenn Beck, Rush Limbaugh (now that would be a shock, huh?) for many years I was convinced it was Andy Rooney of 60 Minutes.

These days I believe the anti-Christ is Stephan Hawking that brainiac physicist who may seem mild-mannered and nerdy but in 2012 (depending on how you interpret the Mayan calendar) he is going to pull out the nuclear ray gun he has been working on for 30 years, and while rising from that wheelchair of his, and with a voice that sounds like a cross between that of Arnold Schwarzenegger and roaring thunder he will point the ray gun at us, announce himself as God and say: “stick ‘em up!!” Of course he is not God but most people in Utah will believe him and some Scientologists. The rest of us will know him for who he really is: anti-Christ Hawking.

I never DID trust the guy but with all the political correctness police surrounding us at every given moment, it is nearly impossible to criticize or accuse any disabled member of society especially one who speaks with a digital voice-box like the damaged GPS device I use in my car.

But Hawking will not work alone. I suspect every geek I come upon. Every spectacle wearing techie that concludes our brief conversations with their code phrase: “have a nice day” is suspect and I have been taking names. Bill Gates is like number 2 on my list. What if there are anti-Christ tag teams out there? Actually there is mention of a false prophet who will also wreak havoc in conjunction with the evil one.

Immediately my mind races to: Rush Limbaugh and Newt Gingrich but they are just the devil’s decoys. Like I said I have my money on Hawking and Gates. If you think viruses on your PC are hard to get rid of, wait ‘til you try removing them from the chip embedded into your brain. You will WISH you went MAC a long time ago when all your cool friends were switching over.

For those of you shocked by my candor and surface cynicism, just know that I read the big book and upon skipping to the end, I promise you the good guys win; whatever good guys are left alive that is.

For the rest of you, I leave you with the famous Marlon Brando line from the film “Apocalypse Now” to describe what it will be like for you:

“the horror……..the horror!”

Don’t worry; even horror can’t be all that bad and if the Mayan Calendar is right, it will be quick. Somewhere, there are ancient Mayans who are laughing their heads off at us for the havoc they are causing!

Anyone who has been following my essays and public journaling knows that I am at the crossroads of middle age with a lack of direction not even a cosmic GPS could help me with. I am somewhere between candidating for a Nobel Peace Prize and delivering pizza. Since my car gets lousy gas mileage, and the registration on it has been suspended I am counting on the Nobel Peace Prize.

What the heck – Obama got one and so did Jimmy Carter. When I read that even Yasser Arafat received the prestigious award, I knew that I would be a shoo in. But as the season of rent is drawing near again, I once more searched high and low, in this case Craigslist as the low, for any potential gig to get me through another month while waiting for the Nobel Committee to finally take my call.

I happened upon a Craigslist ad that read as follows:
Speech Writer / Public Speaker wanted to address Brooklyn Community College Graduating Class of 2011. Speech must be inspirational, motivational and memorable.

I went to Brooklyn Community College for 2 years in my early twenties. It’s a beautiful campus located right on one of Brooklyn’s most famous and only beaches. The dunes are constructed with recycled plastic upon a hidden garbage dump covered in layers upon layers of sand and some say there are more bodies floating in the water there than fish. It is also not far from Coney Island and when I used to drop my college sweetheart Magdelena off nearby late at night I waited in the car as she crossed the street and entered her complex known as “the projects.” I would lock my car doors and cower at the sounds of “snap, crackle and pop,” the gun-fire heard from a distance thanks to the Puerto Rican gangs that contributed to the ambiance of evenings there. I wish I were nicer to Magdelena and would have been had she not prevented me from losing my virginity for so long during our 3 year on and off courtship.

As far as inspirational, motivational and memorable goes I can only say that I am not the most positive thinker applying for this lofty assignment. When someone holds a glass in my direction and asks the famous riddle of whether it is half full or half empty, my response is to shudder thinking that it will fall out of the person’s hands, crash to the ground causing the broken shards of glass to hit a major artery resulting in me slowly bleeding to death. At least he will get his answer regarding the balance between the positive and negative charges of life. So will my speech be inspirational and motivational? No, but I guarantee my speech will be remembered long after I am whisked away by the Brooklyn police who will violently throw me head first into the back of their patrol car.

So here goes:
Young ladies and gentlemen, the graduating class of Brooklyn Community College 2011: as an alum of these hallowed grounds, I am honored to address you here today and christen you all with a speech that will launch you into young adulthood like the champagne bottle that was used to launch that great and mighty ship the Titanic. These past two years of disciplined study has prepared you for the rest of your lives. You may hold your heads up in shameful pride as you enter the world as community college graduates armed with Associate Degrees in fields as diverse and necessary as Philosophy, Sociology, Secretarial Skills and Liberal Arts. Your way is limited as you move toward the void.

You are entering a world where your generation is the first in decades expected to earn significantly less than those of your parents and even their parents. With inflation factored in you will probably make less than the average worker in China who will soon own this country. I am envious of the challenges you are faced with as you become indentured servants to countries like China and Japan who upon redeeming the debt owed to them by our country will in essence own America. As you make deliveries for Chinese and Japanese Restaurants in your little motor scooters, remember to hoard some of the morsels of rice you are allotted so that you may make it last longer than how your masters intended.

Your esteemed generation holds high the greatest of the great with talents and genius of the likes of Kim Kardashian, Paris Hilton, “Lindsey” and Snooky. May you aspire to be even greater than them who walked before you clearing the way for your own mediocrity to shine forth like a dull, dying star in a galaxy of suns.

In conclusion, I implore you to press on to fulfill the destiny and calling before you keeping in mind that if you don’t your tuition is non-refundable. Launch yourselves as mighty rockets using the knowledge imparted to you from these hallowed halls where Jimmy Hoffa is believed to be buried, as the fuse designed to propel you into oblivion. Go forth now and as the Steppenwolf song “Born to be Wild” urges: explode into space! Like a true nature’s child, you were born, born to be wild, you can climb so high – you never wanna die! Thank you.

CNN iReport asked for stories about Alzheimer’s so I sent them an essay I wrote about my Dad. It was noticed by a CNN producer who interviewed me and back linked my original essay to her own story.

This is a painting of my Dad I did in tribute of his Spanish ancestry. He would always tell us how his forefathers were from Spain but escaped to Greece (where he was born) during the Spanish Inquisition.

As I write this, my father is in a locked down section of a hospital. The police were called when he became violent with my mother and they brought him there. He is suffering from Alzheimer’s and is in the middle stages of this insidious disease. At 80 years old he wants to get divorced from my Mom, (which is a glimmer of sanity actually) take half of their extremely humble assets and move to Israel where he was brought up. He is paranoid that everyone is conspiring against him and that my mother is trying to take his money. He is starting to make Charlie Sheen look rational. There is no psych ward in the hospital he is in and they are waiting for one to open up at another. I was going to go today to visit him and was informed that in this unit, no visitors are allowed. I have to admit that I was a little relieved because I just don’t know if I can face this or face him in the state he is in. He is coherent and responsive but he is just not all there.

I am naïve and tried to reason with him. I said: “Dad, you have Alzheimer’s. You need to take your medication and anti-depressants and stop with all this moving to Israel stuff. Stop being angry and just enjoy the rest of your life. You don’t have the money and you can’t do it on your own.” He got angry and said “nonsense, you are brainwashed by your mother”. Better than Scientologists I thought, but I didn’t respond. I gave up, realizing that there is no reasoning with someone in his state of mind.

A very close friend of mine lost his mother several years ago to Alzheimer’s. When she passed, he did not seem that broken up to me and being the jerk that I am, I asked him about this. He said: “to me, my mom has been gone for over a year or so.” And now I am beginning to understand, because my mourning has just begun and he is still alive.

My dad was a workingman. First he was an ironworker for many years, then he drove a taxi and for a time he worked both jobs. When we go back to the old neighborhood, we can still see traces of the work he did around the house we lived in. The iron fence he built, and remnants of the steel basketball court he made for us in our backyard that made my brother and me popular with the neighborhood kids. He also took us cool places like Palisades Amusement Park, The Statue of Liberty and the neighborhood beaches. He took us slot car racing, to zoos and a myriad of parks. In many ways I feel that my parents were pretty ill equipped to raise me and I basically raised myself. I never really got any good advice from my dad. His best attempt was the constant mantra “don’t forget to change oil in your car”. I also suffered from depression my whole life and he was always telling me “how I just need to keep busy.”

I realize now that how ridiculous that always sounded, there is something to that because when my wife moved out in August taking my daughter with her I sunk into depths I didn’t think were possible and I got out of it by just being so distracted and busy with this blog!! The accolades and LOLs I have been receiving have been pure medicine, and have yielded better results than a hundred bottles of Prozac. Yeah, busy is good!

My sister is his favorite kid and to him she is still a kid even though she is blank years old. I would tell you her age but she would kill me! He was always so doting with her with a love that I could now appreciate having a daughter of my own. I love my 4 year old “buddy” more than anything in the world and I am glad for the time she is still spending with Nono (grandpa) when we go to see him. I hope those times are not over and great advice isn’t everything – love is! Anyway I am just going to tell her to Google everything. After this incident it is really sinking in that I am losing my dad. I feel that my mourning has begun. All the resentment over stupid things is falling by the wayside and al I can think about are the good times.

I miss you dad and I’m gonna miss you much more. Thanks for the advice. I am changing oil in my car every 2,000 miles. Ok, I lied: every 3,000 miles! I love you Dad.